


Better Than It Could Have Been

by J_E_McCormick



Series: His Thoughts, Spattered On Loose-Leaf Paper [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Depression, M/M, Other, but also movies and cuddles, this is the nicest one in the series so far
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-26 12:04:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_E_McCormick/pseuds/J_E_McCormick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Thank you.” Jehan murmured against Courfeyrac’s collarbone. “I feel better.”</p><p>Courfeyrac knew that didn’t mean that Jehan was feeling completely right again – only that it was better than it had been, better than it could have been. </p><p>“I’m glad.” Courfeyrac whispered back</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Than It Could Have Been

**Author's Note:**

> You'll probably notice that this goes through spurts of updates whenever I'm feeling low myself. This is the first of two I've written today, and this is the 'better' one of the two.
> 
> I'll have to write something from Jehan's POV at some point.

_‘I'm having a low day.’_  
  
Courfeyrac glanced down at the text t that had just come through. Although something in his chest clenched, he also felt a rush of relief. At least Jehan was telling him and letting him in. Plus, if Jehan was willing to tell him, it meant that perhaps his mood was improvable – if they caught a bad spell early, they could at least lessen the damage.

 He excused himself from Enjolras and Combeferre – “Important matters have come up I’m afraid, try not to message me unless it’s urgent until tomorrow.” – and stopped by the little pastry shop Jehan loved before returning to his apartment to set out all the fluffy blankets he could find.  
  
Courfeyrac waited outside Jehan's lecture for him. When the little blonde traipsed out, eyes fixed on the ground, shoulders hunched, Courfeyrac gently grasped his shoulder. Jehan looked up for a moment, and then threw his arms around Courfeyrac's neck. The taller boy easily pulled Jehan up into his arms, so that the poet's legs were wrapped around his waist and he was still clinging to Courfeyrac’s neck, face hidden in his arms. Courfeyrac used his arms to support the poet, and started to carry him home with nothing more than a kiss to the skin behind his ear.

Jehan was light – very light, too light, but that was a worry to be addressed another time – but even so, Courfeyrac’s arms were starting to ache by the time he reached the apartment.

“Love, I need to unlock the door.” He murmured softly, slowly releasing Jehan and letting him unwind his arms and legs and stand beside him. He didn’t let Jehan out of his grip, however, keeping him pressed tightly to one side, and Jehan attached himself around Courfeyrac’s waist instead. Courfeyrac gently nudged Jehan into the apartment, then pulled him away just enough for him to cup his face in his hands and make the poet meet his eyes.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do.” He smiled softly. “I bought some _puits d’amour_ and a couple _glacé petits fours_ from the place you like, set out your favourite DVDs – there’s some Disney, a few musicals, I think there’s that one black-and-white one you love as well – and moved the TV into the bedroom, so now you’re going to go and bundle yourself up in blankets and I’m going to make us tea, okay?”

A tiny answering smile flitted across Jehan’s face, and he nodded. “Okay.”

Courfeyrac pressed a kiss to his forehead and nudged him in the direction of the bedroom before heading to the kitchen. He was quick to brew the tea and pour some into Jehan’s favourite mug, preparing it in the precise way Jehan liked it – he was a little particular about his tea – and then quickly and carelessly made his own, grabbed the pastries and set them on a plate, then placed everything on a tray and carried it through to the bedroom.

Jehan was cuddled up in the middle of the blanket pile, seeming to weigh up ‘The Hunchback Of Notre Dame’ and ‘Phantom Of The Opera’ in his hands.

“Not to skew your choice or anything, but Carlotta’s voice pains me.” Courfeyrac joked as he walked over to place the tray in Jehan’s lap.

“Phantom it is.” Jehan replied promptly, shifting a little to balance the tray on his knees and holding out the DVD for Courfeyrac to put on. Courfeyrac gave an exaggerated groan, but his smile gave him away as he set the DVD playing and returned to the bed to snuggle under the blankets with Jehan. After sorting out the precarious balance of the tray, Jehan curled into his side, hands wrapped around his mug and his head resting on Courfeyrac’s shoulder.

~~::.::~~

A few hours later, Jehan was dozing off in the middle of ‘Lady And The Tramp’, arms wrapped loosely around Courfeyrac’s waist. As Courfeyrac wriggled out of his grip to turn the TV off, the poet woke, blearily looking around for his missing human pillow.

“Courf?” He called sleepily.

“Just turning everything off, love.” Courfeyrac replied. Jehan didn’t lie back down until Courfeyrac was beside him again.

“Thank you.” He murmured against Courfeyrac’s collarbone. “I feel better.”

Courfeyrac knew that didn’t mean that Jehan was feeling completely right again – only that it was better than it had been, better than it could have been. He’d probably be able to pick himself up out of bed the next day, would shower and eat his breakfast – or half of it – and would let Courfeyrac cuddle and kiss him without complaint, but might still be too quiet come morning, might still trace the scars on his wrist with absent-minded fingertips, might still cry or want to go to bed much too early.

“I’m glad.” Courfeyrac whispered back, tangling a hand in Jehan’s hair and resting the other one atop Jehan’s, where it rested on his chest.


End file.
